A few days ago, I got on the scale. Now, I have stepped on the scale going on a quadrillion times, and the scale has never spoken to me like it did that day, this being the light bulb moment. The number on the scale hit an all time high. As long as I have known my husband, I have never been this heavy. The reason I got on the scale in the first place was because my body felt different. There are parts of me everywhere, and I thought I was having an allergic reaction to something due to the growth of me, but no, it's just fat. I didn't cry, I didn't binge eat, and I didn't go to the gym to kill myself for hours. I acknowledged it and collected the motivation of the moment. I haven't been this big in years...like college day years. The little bikini pic I took this summer could easily serve as an after pic of what I am now. Anyway, I used that moment to make a vow to myself. No, the vow did not consist of eating less, running more, counting calories, weighing food, cutting out food groups, or partaking in a tempting eating disorder, I vowed the best vow I have ever vowed...to buy new jeans. I'm done with trying to get into those pants that have been in my closet for three years; it just ain't happenin', folks. Not right now anyway. Now, some people are like, "No, Abigail, don't give up. Reach for the size 6 finish line!!" I'm not giving up; I promise. But I am done feeling terrible in my clothes that I have. If I'm too big to fit in my clothes, then I am a walking punch line. I'm a little older, my schedule is a little different, and my priorities have definitely changed, so I know that it's going to take a little longer to reach goals. While I am trying to reach those goals, I'd like for my jeans to not try to kill me along the way. So yeah, I went shopping with my husband, and we bought me some new jeans. Now let's talk about that...
When I was looking at the jeans at the PX, I knew that I was going to have a time. First of all, I'm not Korean which is a synonym for perfect, I'm not eighteen, I'm not anorexic...hmmmm. I didn't even waste my time in the single digits. Haha, no, why would I torture myself? If I did that, my husband would have heard a bawling banshee and shattering glass. The store workers would have had to lure me out of the dressing room with an XL pair of men's Hanes wide leg sweatpants (those really were almost purchased), a Kit-Kat, and a bottle of Melatonin. Forget all that mess, I went straight to the double digits, ladies. I know what I am, and I didn't care at the moment. They had my size, great! But it has been so long since I have bought jeans that I couldn't understand the thought process of the style. Every pair I picked up said skinny. Well, if I was skinny, then I wouldn't be jean shopping. It's like the jeans knew I was giving into my fatness and were taunting me. It was like a slow denim chant: Skin-ny, skin-ny, skin-ny, skin-ny...
Umm, skinny I am not, skinny jeans I want not. Trying to find jeans that weren't skinny was actually frustrating. My husband saw my bewilderment, so he knew to have his eyes peeled. As soon as I said, "Can a girl get a BOOTCUT!?!" He handed me a pair. "Ahh, thank you, husband." I skipped off to the dressing room to try on the jeans. Now, someone who knows the logic behind this, please explain, because I am befuddled. I put the jeans on, with ease mind you, and was pleased, but once I went to zip my pants, I was introduced to yet another style trend. When I zip up my old jeans, it's like zzzziiiipppp. I can hear it; I can feel it; I can actually get my shirt caught in it. But when I went to zip up dressing room jeans it was more like z. I looked down at my two inch zipper, disgusted. Do you know what a double digit, 5'1'', pot belly girl looks like in a two inch zipper jeans??? It's not pretty. The jeans are hitting my nonexistent hipbones, my belly button is a mile away from the button, and I'm pretty sure that the top of my butt was still showing. What is that??? Why would I want to wear that??? I mean, I bought them, yeah, because I said they went on with ease, but I have to strategically plan to wear super duper long shirts that come in at the waist because if I don't, hello Abigail Plumber. My old jeans have such a wonderful zipper. Long zippers on jeans give me a place to tuck in my lower belly fat. I can literally shove my fat down into the long zipper jeans. It makes me look stupendous. Long zippers are kind of like Spanx minus the bonus of getting cleavage. Sometimes, though, long zipper jeans do cause lower back cleavage which I have been guilty of a time or two...shame. Anyway, the two inch zipper, which I am now calling zinch jeans, put my fat on display. I was mortified; now there is some motivation.
I came out of the dressing room and told my husband about the zinch jeans; he looked excited. How and why those details would excite the man, I'll never know. I think he was just so pumped that I was actually going to buy jeans instead of babydoll dresses or tunics. That's right, I barely wore a waist band this summer; it was amazing. We just bought the jeans on Saturday, and I've already worn them twice. I know they're bigger than what I would want, but I looked good. I wasn't red in the face from lack of circulation, and you couldn't count the change in my back pocket, but the zinch...really? What's the point?
